


The Manhattan Job

by VarjoRuusu



Category: Black Sails
Genre: All Over the House, Almost everyone is a thief, And hopeless, Based heavily on The Thomas Crown Affair, Cute, Eleanor goes to Jail, Fluffy, Hornigold and Dufresne are FBI, M/M, Modern AU, No Angst, Ridiculous, Smut, Snark, Theft, art heist au, there is a lot of sex, there is sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-20 22:56:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11344815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VarjoRuusu/pseuds/VarjoRuusu
Summary: James Flint is a retired Royal Navy sniper. During his years with the Navy he encountered, quite by accident, a hidden treasure. In recognition for his find, he was given a hefty reward, enough to allow him to retire and become a private art collector. Enter John Silver, a young man with sticky fingers who’s been on the run from the FBI for the last several years, and he’s taken a contract to steal a painting from Flint. It’s just another job, just one more in a string of long cons, but what happens when they meet and sparks fly?





	The Manhattan Job

**Author's Note:**

> This AU wandered around my head and when it came out, it based itself very heavily on the Thomas Crown Affair (the remake), and was mostly written to the tune of Nina Simone’s [Sinnerman](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QH3Fx41Jpl4/) which I highly recommend you listen to. Surprisingly, I was not actually watching the movie while I wrote this, but I guess since I’ve seen it fairly recently it didn’t need to be watched.
> 
> WARNING: I added IMAGES. There are lots of Impressionist paintings in this, my apologies to people on mobile that might have problems with them loading. ><
> 
> Also I rather took some liberties with the paintings, all of which I believe, or guess, are owned by museums or some such, not private collectors. I dunno, I picked stuff I liked.

Sadly it's decided not to let me leave my pictures in here so, there is now a post on tumblr with all the art I was inspired by.

[The Manhattan Job Art and Cover Art](https://beneaththeblacksails.tumblr.com/post/164484608936/apparently-photobucket-is-an-ass-so-the-pictures-i)

* * *

 

“John, listen to me, please, as your friend, I am advising you not to steal from James fucking Flint, do you hear me?”

“I hear you, Jack,” John Silver grinned, waving a hand at his long time friend and partner.

“Yes, but are you listening,” Jack Rackham muttered, crossing his arms.

“Jack, come on, the Chinese collector offered us £25,000,000 for the painting,” Silver grinned, tossing a ball up in the air and deftly catching it. “It's the score of a lifetime, we can retire! You and Anne can buy that island you've been looking at in the Seychelles.”

“We can't retire if we're in prison,” Jack pointed out and Silver rolled his eyes, tossing the ball again, leaning back in his chair as his eyes scanned the various hacked security feeds along the wall.

“We're not going to prison,” Silver dismissed with a chuckle, poking a few keys to zoom in on something that caught his interest in the museum they were casing.

“What are we even stealing?” Jack asked, exasperated but curious. Silver grinned and toss a postcard on the table.

“That,” he said simply as Jack picked up the post card.

“John, that's _The Fighting Temeraire_. One doesn't just steal _The Fighting Temeraire_ ,” he grumbled.

“I do,” Silver smirked.

“Do you have idea the security he's going to have on this thing?” Jack complained, tapping a few keys and bringing up several pages of specs, all of which would make most men turn and run at their complexity and impressive list of foolproof failsafes. Silver just chuckled.

“I may have another way in,” he smirked, patting Jack on the shoulder and ignoring his gobsmacked expression. Silver was already half way out of the van when Jack recovered.

“I'm not sure getting in his bed is going to be the best way to go about this one!” he called, but Silver didn't hear, or didn't acknowledge, already slipping through the shadows, to the side door and the rotating security keypad.

-:-:-

“Charles, if you wanted away from the life you shouldn't have started in with Guthrie's daughter,” Edward Teach muttered over his glass of champagne, trying to hide the exasperated glare he was sending at his stepson.

“Look, how was I supposed to know she was going to go off the rails and start trying to rob banks?” Charles asked, clenching his fists.

“You've met her father, yes? It was always about the next, the bigger than the last, the one to end it all with him. You think his daughter wasn't going to inherit that?”

“Cunt,” Charles muttered into his glass, glancing around the gala and promptly going back to ignoring everyone else.

“Well, what are you going to do about it, son?” Edward asked and Charles sighed.

“I'm going to do something,” he growled. “I'm sick of that bitch giving me orders and sooner or later she's going to get us all arrested, or killed. Abigail isn't a bank robber, she's a forger. She's got no business playing lookout while Eleanor cracks a safe.”

“Have you told her to find another crew to work with? I hear Jack and Anne have a new partner,” Edward said, waving his glass as if they were really discussing the painting in front of them that had a price tag of three quarters of a million.

“She won't, and the partner's not that new. They've been running cons with John Silver for almost three years now,” Charles grumbled, glancing across the room at the aforementioned mop haired thief, the up and coming young brat that was already better than Charles, possibly better than the famed Edward Teach. Not that anyone would say so, not out loud. Not that it would matter. Charles was one of about a dozen people who actually know what Edward Teach even looked like.

Not that it mattered anyway, Charles was going to find a way to bring Eleanor down, get Abigail into art school and out of art forging, and then he was going to fucking retire. Charles rolled his eyes as he watched Silver working the room with his charming smile and boyish laugh and really, really resisted going over and chucking him over the balcony into the pool below just for being irritating.

“What the fuck is Gates doing,” Charles muttered as he squinted across the room at another ex-thief, Hal Gates, who know ran one of the largest art museums in New York City. Edward just shrugged, watching with interest as Gates dragged Silver over to a noted art collector and introduced them.

“Mr. Flint, I'd like to introduce you to my new curator,” Gates said, ushering Silver over to where James Flint was talking to two men in pristine suits.

“John Smith,” Silver said with a smirk, shaking Flint's hand. “I hear you're in possession of several Turner paintings. I would very much love to see them, he's my favorite painter of all time.”

“Hmm,” Flint said, running his eyes up and down, assessing. “We might be able to arrange something.”

John grinned and released his hand, tucking it back into his pocket.

“Aren't you a bit young to be a curator?” Flint asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Art is a passion of mine, has been since I was a small child,” Silver said, shrugging his shoulders. “I grew up around art, I have a lot of...experience,” he grinned, interjecting a hint of double meaning into his words. Flint must have caught it, because he raised an eyebrow behind his glass of scotch.

“Good to meet you,” Flint nodded, returning to his conversation. Silver watched him for a moment more before smirking into his own glass and following Gates across the room.

“Now, don't you be thinking about lifting from him, you hear?” Gates said, bumping Silver's shoulder as they circled the room slowly. “And none of your other nonsense either, you hear me boy?”

Silver rolled his eyes at his mentor and nodded, eyes cutting back to Flint across the room, catching the other man watching him. He raised his glass with a smirk and Flint looked away again quickly. Silver didn't catch him again the rest of the evening but as soon as he had left the party behind and taken a cab to the flat where he, Jack, and Anne had been staking out the job they just finished, he went right for Jack.

“Did you get the feed?” Silver asked excitedly as he tossed his jacket over the back of the couch and set down next to Jack on the couch, peering at the three large monitors set up on the wall and the coffee table.

“Did I get the feed,” Jack muttered. “Of course I got the bloody feed, there wasn't even a redundancy loop built in to keep out intruders, it's the worst security system I've seen in a long time.”

“There,” Silver pointed, as Jack rewound. The feed paused, then moved forward in real time and Silver chuckled. “I think I got his attention,” he smirked, watching Flint's eyes following him as he circled the room, making small talk.

“This is utter madness,” Jack muttered, fingers twitching. “Complete and utter-”

“Jack, shut the fuck up,” Anne snapped from the bedroom and Silver grinned, mentally ticking off that this was the seventh time he'd heard Anne Bonny speak in the three years he'd known her.

“We're all going to prison,” Jack grumbled, then fell silent.

-:-:-

The doorbell woke Flint, which wasn't that odd, considering it was Saturday, his one day when he slept as late as he pleased and generally didn't get up for anything or anyone unless the house was on fire. He didn't bother to get up now and a few minutes later his head of security cracked the door and peered in.

“You might want to get up,” Billy said, eyes wide. “There's Feebs downstairs.” Flint rolled his eyes.

“Billy, what have I told you about watching those god awful movies?” he groused as he pulled himself out of his luxurious silk sheets and into a slightly wrinkled shirt and dressing gown.

“It fries my brain and I should eat less junk food,” Billy snickered and Flint shook his head as he brushed past Billy. He was a good kid, 6'6” and built like a brick wall, knew how to handle pretty much any situation, but he was weird. Flint still wasn't sure why exactly he'd hired him, other than he came highly recommended from the security firm after the last person Flint had employed had retired.

Heading down the stairs he found the two agents in his study, peering around the room with poorly disguised curiosity.

“James Flint,” he introduced himself as he swept into the room. “How can I help you Mr.?”

“Agent Dufresne,” said the shorter man, neat suit, curly hair, glasses. “And Agent Horingold, White Collar crimes devision.” Taller man, white hair, well groomed facial hair. Flint catalogued their features for later and forced something akin to a smile on to his face as he shook their hands.

“Pleasure,” Flint muttered. “Please,” he said, indicating the chairs in front of his desk as he sank into his office chair.

“Mr. Flint, there has been chatter on the black market and we believe that there is a contract out for one of your paintings. A source told us that someone is in the market for a very famous painting, we believe _The Fighting Temeraire_. We think this man is planning to steal it,” Agent Dufresne told Flint, dropping a picture on the table in front of him. Flint raised an eyebrow at the slightly blurry picture of 'John Smith', the man he'd met at the gala.

“Why would Mr. Smith be trying to steal my painting?” Flint asked, interjecting the right amount of surprise into his voice. He knew there had been something off about the man when Gates introduced them. Perhaps the fact that it was Hal Gates, a retired art thief himself, that introduced them. He hadn't flown quite low enough under Flint's radar to escape detection. Billy was very good at his job.

“You know him?” Agent Dufresne asked with surprise.

“We met at a gala a few weeks ago, introduced by a mutual friend. I understood that he's a curator,” Flint shrugged, as if entirely unbothered by the idea he may have been introduced to a thief.

“His name is John Silver, twenty-eight, orphaned at a young age and in trouble with the law since he was twelve. He graduated from petty larceny to grand theft auto to professional art theft in a span of around five years,” Dufresne informed him and again Flint shrugged.

“I only met the man briefly, he seemed nice enough,” he said, inspecting the photo with not entirely faked interest. It was a distant shot, obviously taken with a telephoto lens and Silver's hair was piled on top of his head, the curls fighting to escape the clip that kept them in place. He was bent over a laptop, a look of extreme concentration on his face as he typed.

“If you see him again, be very cautious. As yet he has showed no tendency for violence, but one can never be too careful. If you have any idea of his whereabouts, please call us,” Dufresne said, handing over his and Hornigold's card before leaving, following Billy to the door.

“Do I need to up security?” Billy asked, returning to the office. Flint shook his head, then chuckled.

“Actually, you're due vacation, aren't you? All of you?”

Billy stared for a moment before he shook his head. “I'm sorry, did I just hear you say you're sending all three of your security guards on vacation? At once?”

“If it helps, Lydia is due vacation as well,” he said, referring to the housekeeper who came in four days a week.

“Are you looking for trouble?” Billy asked, aghast.

Flint smirked. “Maybe a little,” he chuckled and Billy rolled his eyes as Flint pulled another business card out of his desk, reaching for the phone.

-:-:-

“Mr. Smith, so glad you could make it,” Flint said happily, keeping his smirk in check. Silver returned the smile, reaching out shake Flint's hand.

“John, please,” he said with a laugh. “I must say I was surprised to get your call.”

“You expressed an interested in my collection, I thought I'd indulge you. Most of the larger paintings are housed here,” Flint said, indicating the building they were standing under. It looked innocuous enough on the outside but inside it was a high security storage facility that catered specifically to art collectors. Silver's eyes widened with genuine interest as Flint headed for the door, holding it open for the other man.

Silver hesitated only a fraction of a second before he stepped inside, unsure, but suspecting that Flint was checking out his ass as he walked through the door. He allowed himself a small smile as Flint signed them in and they took the elevator to the seventh floor.

“Why Turner?” Flint asked as the doors slid open, once more indicating John stop out before him, entirely _not_ checking him out as he walked. Really though, how was he supposed to resist. The man looked like he'd just walked out of a catalogue.

“The colors,” Silver said simply, shrugging. His hands were tucked in his pockets as they always seemed to be and he waited for Flint to pass him before following the other man. “They're...evocative.”

Flint nearly snorted at the choice of wording but he kept his face straight as he fished a set of keys from his pocket and unlocked a panel that covered a palm and retina scanner, before keying in the eighteen digit code. He really, dearly, would love to see Silver break into this place, but he knew if Silver was after something it would be one of the paintings he kept at his three story Brownstone. He suspected, despite what the FBI had said, that Silver was not, in fact, after _The Fighting Termeraire._

They spent an hour wandering around large storage space, pulling out various paintings and standing for long minutes just looking, before one had Silver standing stock still, hardly breathing. Flint just watched him as he stared at the painting, taking the opportunity to check him out throughly. He found himself entirely interested in getting his hands on that ass, and he suspected that was exactly what Silver had been going for, wearing the dark blue suit that he was, the pants far too tight to not be called outright obscene.

“I've always wondered what it would be like to sail,” Silver said after a while, not turning away from the painting. “If it really is as glamorous as it's made out to be.”

“It's...obviously different today, to what's depicted in these paintings, but it's a thrill,” James said, thinking of his months at sea on various ships. He'd never restricted himself to one posting and had sailed on almost every type of craft the Royal Navy had.

“Hmm. Maybe one day I'll get myself a yacht of some description, try it out,” Silver shrugged, turning to Flint with a smile.

“Here, I want to show you this one,” Flint said, beckoning Silver over to a large painting against the wall. Silver whistled when he pulled away the cover and they were launched into a long discussion about the Napoleonic wars.

“I had a wonderful time, thank you again for the tour,” Silver said with a smile as they were leaving an hour later, his hand lingering as he grasped Flint's. He saw Flint smirk as he nodded, backing away as he continued to hold Silver's eyes before turning and disappearing around the corner. Silver shook himself and started going over the blueprints of Flint's house in his head as he headed back to his flat.

-:-:-

Three nights later a silent alarm tripped in the downstairs hall and Flint was out of bed on silent feet, sneaking down the carpeted stairs and into the dining room. He nearly chuckled when he immediately recognized the shape of Silver's distinctly curly hair silhouetted in the darkness.

“Well this is awkward,” Flint drawled, flipping the overhead light switch. Silver froze, shoulders tensed, his first thoughts wondering if Flint had a gun. Cautiously he looked over his shoulder to find Flint leaning against he doorframe, arms crossed and amusement on his face. He wasn't wearing a shirt.

Silver straightened up with a frown, arms dropping to his side as he turned around fully and leveled the other man with a glare.

“Did you already call the police?” he demanded and Flint shook his head, smirking.

“I'm having far too much fun with you to do that,” he said as he turned away.

Silver stared at him open mouthed. Had James Flint just _winked_ at him?

“Oh, and Mr. Smith, do lock the doors on the way out, would you?” Flint's voice floated to him and Silver gathered what was left of his common sense and fled.

“Did James fucking Flint fucking _wink_ at you?” Jack demanded as soon as Silver was in the van, panting from having run the last three blocks to where they were staked out.

“Can we go before he does call the police?” Silver said instead of responding. “And get out of his security feeds before he gets the FBI to trace our asses back to Queens.”

Jack rolled his eyes, feeling no need to once more state that his hacks were un-hackable and that the FBI could bloody well try, but the van peeled out and he was instead clutching at a half full cup of coffee and glaring at the back of Anne's red hair.

“We're in deep shit,” Jack muttered, shaking his head as he typed away, doing god knows what on his computers, coffee held between his knees.

“It can't be that bad,” Silver muttered, slipping into the front seat with Anne.

“Not that bad? I'm calling Max as soon as we're back at the flat, which by the way, we'll need to burn. We have to move, if not scrap this entire operation, right the fuck now,” Jack said and Silver rolled his eyes. He didn't see any need to call in their documents woman, they weren't fleeing the country tomorrow. If anything, Silver was going back to the Brownstone the next night, just to see what Flint would do.

They night turned into the next week, since Jack insisted that they did indeed move flats, though Silver was able to talk him out of scrapping the entire thing. £25,000,000 certainly helped with the convincing, not to mention an old school friend of Jack's popping out of the woodwork.

“Hello, Charles, what are you doing here?” Jack asked nervously, eyes daring around the cafe wildly.

“I have a proposition for you, and your partners,” Charles said, ignoring Jack's twitchy paranoia.

“Might I suggest we not talk about it here? I have a break in five minutes, meet me out back please,” Jack said, turning back to the kitchen and hoping Charles wouldn't make a fuss. When he glanced back the other man was gone and he sighed.

Four minutes later he pushed the door to the alley open, lighter already on the way to the cigarette in his mouth. Charles just raised an eyebrow and Jack tossed him the pack and the lighter.

“All right, what is it?” Jack said, nervously flicking the butt, even though there was no ash to knock free yet.

“I want to take the bitch down,” Charles said as he lit his own cigarette, tossing the pack and lighter back casually. “She's getting dangerous, and she's going to get Abigail into trouble.”

“From what I've seen your cousin can take care of herself,” Jack said and Charles chuckled. Abigail certainly knew how to throw a punch, but that wouldn't help her when they got picked up robbing a bank and she got tossed in jail for grand larceny. She was only twenty and Charles was the only family she had.

“I want to send her to art school,” he said. “I hear you're going for a big prize and I can make it so Eleanor takes the fall for whatever it is. That way you have a scapegoat, she's locked up, and all I want is a big enough cut so that I can get Abby through school and set up with a studio somewhere.”

“You're being very reasonable about all this,” Jack said, not really recognizing the man who'd once been his closest friend. Charles Vane had a ruthless temper and Jack had been one of the few through high school and college to tolerate him and not be afraid of him. That had begun to change when they went their separate ways into the crime business, since Charles' first employment had been as a knuckle man for some loan sharks.

“I want out,” Charles said simply. “I want her out. Ed has a new business starting up, a legitimate one, he wants me to run his finances. I can finally put that fucking maths degree to good use.”

“I'll...have to talk to John about it,” Jack said and Charles nodded, flicking the end of his cigarette in the gutter.

“Here's my number,” he said, handing Jack a card. “Let me know.”

Jack nodded as Charles walked away, disappearing around the corner and leaving Jack alone, his fingers fiddling nervously with the unsmoked cigarette that had gone out while it was neglected. He tried to take a drag then frowned at it, tossing it in the gutter in annoyance and going back to work.

-:-:-

“It has to be one of these,” Dufresne muttered at the list of paintings in front of him.

“Flint has other things worth a great deal of money,” Hornigold said, but their section manage shook his head.

“It's one of those,” Woodes Rogers said with irritation. “It's just a matter of which one. The Turner is obvious, so is the Rembrandt, but we can't discount the other's as possibilities.”

 _Vessels in a Strong Wind_ by Jam Procellis

 _Sailing into the Oslo Fiord_ by Hans Gude Innseilingen

 _Ships Tossed_ _in a Gale_ by Aelbert Cuyp

 _Battle of Vigo Bay_ by Ludolf Backhuysen

 _The Fighting Temeraire_ by J.M.W. Turner

 _The Storm on the Sea of Galilee_ by Rembrandt

“You're sure there was nothing more specific in the black market call?” Dufresne asked and Hornigold rolled his eyes at the younger agent.

“Rookie, the fact that it was as specific as it was gave us a huge break. We know who they're targeting, that's a lot better than we usually get,” he told the junior field agent.

“Just get it done,” Rogers said, rubbing his temples. It was bad enough that someone was after Flint's paintings but the Guthrie name had started popping up again, this time in the form of the daughter. Rogers was not looking forward to chasing a member of the Guthrie family again, especially since after five years chasing her father, he'd had to give up and put in for a transfer to a remote island to investigate a drug cartel, just to stop from killing Richard Guthrie with his own hands.

-:-:-

A week after the first incident, the silent alarm tripped again and Flint smirked, this time pulling a shirt over his head and sneaking down the stairs, simply watching as Silver poked around the study for a few minutes before leaving out the same window he came in. He paused on the ledge, turning and catching Flint's eye, the other man stepping out of the shadows with a raised eyebrow before Silver vanished over the ledge.

He went to the window, watching Silver walking casually down the street like he hadn't just slipped out an open window and Flint chuckled, grinning when Silver turned, his blue eyes sparking in the streetlamp and looked back.

In the morning Flint called Billy and told him to take another week off, then he waited. He was about to give up when the alarm tripped just after 1:00am, five nights later.

“Honestly, you're not even trying at this point,” Flint groused, flicking the light on and taking in the long lines of Silver's body, draped out across his favorite chair, smirk on his face and pen twirling around his fingers. A pen, Flint noted, that was worth about $50,000, considering it was pure...silver. Flint huffed as the irony connected in his brain and he rolled his eyes.

“I'm not here to steal anything,” Silver chuckled, then he tilted his head. “Well...nothing of monetary value anyway,” he amended, allowing his eyes to roam from Flint's bare feet up his body, not missing the small shudder that passed through the other man as he dragged his gaze slowly up the silk pyjama bottoms and deliciously bare chest, to the long neck and slightly mussed hair hanging around his ears, and then to his eyes. There was a robe hanging loosely off Flint's shoulders, but it did nothing to cover more than his arms and part of his shoulders.

“Oh?” Flint asked, eyebrows raised as he leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms like he had the first night he caught Silver in his house. “And what have you come to steal then?”

Silver dropped his feet from the desk, standing seamlessly, hands tucking in his pockets as he carelessly tossed the pen on the desk, slowly approaching Flint. He tilted his head and rocked on the balls of his feet for a moment before he grinned.

“You,” he said softly.

“You think I can be stolen?” Flint asked, quirking an eyebrow, unimpressed, easily hiding how hard his heart was pounding.

“I can try,” Silver whispered, stepping closer to they were toe to toe, only a few inches between them.

“Go on then,” Flint said, challenging. “Try.”

Silver grinned, leaning forward and closing the gap between them, his lips brushing over Flint's, not touching anywhere else, his hands still in his pockets. A quick press of lips, followed by something a little stronger, then he let his tongue flick out and trace along Flint's bottom lip, tilting his head a little as he licked along Flint's lips, asking him to open them. Flint's eyes fluttered, not quite closing as he opened his mouth and allowed Silver's tongue to slip inside and touch his, smirking when Silver's eyes dropped closed and he pressed closer, their lips still the only place they touched. He allowed Silver to kiss him, to map the inside of his mouth gently, to push his tongue and rub along it with his own, to draw his bottom lip between his teeth and nip gently, the curly haired man pulling back at last, slightly out of breath.

“You think you can steal me with that?” Flint asked, pleased when his voice remained steady. Silver's eyes snapped open and he _pouted_ , glaring at Flint who chuckled and reached out, curling one hand around the back of Silver's neck and dragging him forward so their bodies were flush with one another, taking complete control of their second kiss.

Silver groaned against him, hands dropping to Flint's waist, fingers flexing against bare skin as he let Flint return the favor of exploring every inch of his mouth, fingers trailing small circles on the back of his head. His other arm came down to circle around Silver's waist and pull him closer, feeling the hard bulge in his trousers and smirking as he rolled his hips gently.

“Fuck,” Silver muttered against Flint's lips, his own hips moving instinctively. “I've wanted you since the night of the gala,” he admitted quietly and felt Flint smirking against his lips.

“And yet you're still trying to steal from me, you shit,” he chuckled, turning them so Silver's back was pressed against the wall, body trapped by Flint's.

“I took a contract,” Silver muttered, dragging Flint forward and reconnecting their lips. “I can't just back out.”

“Hmm,” Flint chuckled, reaching down and tugging at the button on Silver's jeans, popping it open with ease and pushing them down far enough that he could slide his hand inside Silver's boxers, wrapping a hand around him as the other man bucked against him. Flint tightened his hand as his mouth trailed down Silver's jaw to bite at his neck.

“I'm going to fuck you over the desk,” he growled and Silver just groaned, running his hands along Flint's bare chest, mapping the skin beneath his fingertips the way he might map an escape route. “Then I'm going to fuck you on the couch, the kitchen counter, the stairs, my shower, my bed, not necessarily in that order,” Flint continued and Silver just whimpered, the thoughts scrambling his brain in perfect synchronization with Flint's hand on him. He nodded as best he could, fingers dropping to the silk pyjama pants and tugging the string, pushing them so they fell to the floor, revealing all of Flint to him.

“Fuck you're gorgeous,” he breathed and Flint chuckled, removing his hand to the sound of a whimper, his fingers going to the buttons on Silver's shirt and tugging them open with ease. Once Silver was divested of his shirt he pushed his jeans and boxers down, pausing long enough for Silver to kick off his shoes before he turned them and backed him against the desk, reaching in one of the drawers for a bottle and Silver raised his eyes when he spotted what it was.

“Do you keep anal lube in the desk as a habit, or were you expecting me?” Silver asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Smugness doesn't suit you,” Flint said and Silver burst out laughing.

“Everything suits me,” he chuckled, leaning forward and catching Flint's mouth, licking his way inside as Flint's fingers slid down his back, brushing lightly down to his ass where Flint's hands gripped his cheeks and spread them apart, two fingers coated in lube running along his hole and drawing a whimper from him.

“Wanton little thing, aren't you,” Flint chuckled and Silver pulled himself away, resolutely trying to ignore Flint's fingers probing him gently.

“Listen here, you, I know you think you're some high and mighty old man with his money and his art collection but-”

“I am not old,” Flint growled.

“And I'm not as young as you seem to think,” Silver said with a raised eyebrow. They stared at each other for a few moments in silence before Flint cracked a grin and Silver chuckled.

“You don't let anyone walk over you, do you?” Flint laughed, nibbling on Silver's neck.

“I learned a long time ago, you can be silent and submissive, get the shit beat out of you, and feel rotten about it, or you can fight back, get the shit beat out of you, and feel a little better about yourself. You take a job, you have a mark, you let them have the power, the upper hand, let them think they're in control of the situation. Makes them easier to steal from later. I'm not interested in that with you.”

“No?” Flint grinned.

“No,” Silver growled. “Because as soon as you're done fucking me, I want to fuck you,” he said, leaning in and kissing Flint hard, swallowing the moan that rumbled from the other mans throat.

“Believe me when I say I'm entirely on board with that idea,” Flint groaned, tugging Silver closer and finally slipping one finger inside of him, thrusting it gently as Silver canted his hips, head falling back as his eyes slid shut, fingers gripping Flint's shoulders tightly.

“Besides,” Silver gasped, biting his lip hard. “You already know I'm going to steal from you, you want to fuck me anyway.”

“What can I say,” Flint mumbled against his ear, sliding a second finger in with the first. “I like to live dangerously.”

“Mm,” Silver agreed, sliding his hands down Flint's chest and around to grip his ass tightly, rubbing their bodies together. “It's the only way to live.”

Flint grinned, his free hand digging into Silver's curls and tilting his head back to kiss him, tongue sliding into the other mans mouths, sliding along Silver's tongue in the same languid rhythm as his fingers, leaving him gasping for breath. He added a third finger, stretching Silver carefully as he broke away from the kiss and nuzzled along the other mans neck, sucking a deep purple bruise where it would be almost impossible to hide in the morning.

“Fuck, come on,” Silver said suddenly, hips pushing back against Flint's hand harshly and Flint grinned, pulling his fingers free and turning Silver, putting one hand on the back of his neck and pushing him down across the desk, papers scattering everywhere. Silver moaned, feet scrambling for stability as Flint's hands gripped his hips tightly and he slowly pressed his cock in, gasping as he slid into the tight heat, stilling when he was seated, giving them both a moment.

“Fucking move,” Silver groaned and Flint grinned again, obliging as he slammed his hips forward sharply.

“Oh god,” Silver groaned, fingers clutching the desk tightly as Flint thrust into him, the pens rattling and dropping to the floor one by one. Flint chuckled, dragging Silver's hips back as he fucked him, waiting until Silver was right on the edge and shaking before pulling away, dragging him up and turning him around, kissing him deeply as he walked them clumsily out of the office and toward the stairs, pinning Silver to the wall as he sank to his knees. He took the other mans cock in his mouth, sucking lightly and drawing a long whine from Silver, who buried one hand in Flint's hair, the other reaching out for the bannister to steady himself. Again Flint took him right to the edge before pulling away with a smirk.

“Jesus,” Silver panted, collapsing on the stairs, head tilted back as he leaned on his elbows. Flint chuckled, crawling over him and pressing their bodies together.

“I suggest you move, unless you really do want to be fucked on the stairs,” he said with a grin and Silver cracked his eyes open.

“You wouldn't,” he muttered, but the look in Flint's eyes told him that Flint most certainly would and he moved, scrambling out from under the other man and tumbling up the stairs to the landing. A moment later Flint was pressed up against his back, cock easily sliding between his cheeks and teasing at his stretched hole. Silver moaned, tilting his hips back and trying to pull Flint back into his body.

“Eager to be fucked, little thief?” Flint purred in his ear and Silver arched, unashamedly rubbing his whole body against Flint's.

“As eager as you are to get your cock back in me,” Silver threw over his shoulder and Flint groaned, spinning the other man around and lifting him over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, ignoring Silver's screech as he walked toward the bedroom. He also ignored the slap Silver delivered to his ass in protest, his only action being stopping short of the bedroom and dumping the younger man unceremoniously on a chaise lounge in the hallway before sliding over him again, pinning his hands down by his head as they rubbed together.

“You're a shit,” Flint informed him before he sealed their mouths together and angled his hips, sliding into Silver with ease and swallowing his long moan. He hooked a hand around one of Silver's knees and dragged his leg up, sliding deeper as Silver shuddered under him, hands clutching Flint's shoulders hard enough to leave a line of bruises.

“Fuck,” Silver groaned, eyes rolling back in his head as he twisted his hips, grinding against Flint. The other man laced the fingers of his left hand with Silver's, right hand holding his knee in place as he fucked the dark haired man, not stopping this time when Silver began to twitch under him, only changing the angle a little so that every stroke brushed over Silver's prostate. Silver came with a wild cry, his cock untouched and Flint groaned, slamming his hips in as Silver clenched around him, release washing over him as he came deep inside the other man.

Flint collapsed half on Silver, yawning suddenly and Silver chuckled, opening his mouth, no doubt to make a joke, when he too yawned and Flint just raised an eyebrow. Standing on shaky legs he tugged Silver up and into the bedroom across the hall.

“Washroom's through there,” he muttered, waving a hand in the appropriate direction as he fell heavily on the bed, eyes watching Silver's ass as he walked away, rolling his eyes. Silver moved around the washroom for a minute or two cleaning himself up, before he flicked the light back off and collapsed into the bed, immediately searching for Flint in the dark and wrapping an arm around him. Flint just grunted, shoving Silver's arm off and turning, dragging him back so they were resting back to chest instead and Flint could bury his nose in Silver's hair. He reached blindly for the blankets and tugged them over, covering the both of them before he dropped off to sleep.

\- - -

“What,” Flint mumbled, only half awake but already aware of Silver draped across his back, fingers tracing idle patterns. He'd shifted in his sleep and was now laying on his stomach instead of his side.

“I want to fuck you,” Silver whispered and Flint groaned.

“Do I have to move?” he asked, tensing his muscles then relaxing, unable to stretch with the other man lying on top of him.

“Hmm,” Silver chuckled in his ear. “Well if you want to just lie there,” he trailed off, lowering his head to nip at the back of Flint's neck lightly, sucking a red mark to the surface then proceeding to leave a trail of them down Flint's spine. The other man was shifting restlessly under him by the time he reached Flint's ass and bit down on one cheek, then the other, grinning when Flint jumped. He moved lower, trailing his teeth down the backs of Flint's thighs, sucking on the backs of his knees before he shuffled all the way down and bit the instep of Flint's foot, then starting back up, leaving a trail of wet kisses along with the bite marks as he worked his way back to Flint's shoulders.

“If I open your bedside table, what am I going to find?” Silver asked against the skin of Flint's shoulder and Flint chuckled.

“You're curious, why don't you find out?” he challenged, rolling on his back and stretching when Silver's weight left him, one hand lazily drifting down to circle around his cock, stroking slowly as Silver dug in the drawer.

“Kinky,” the other man muttered and Flint grinned, knowing what he'd found. A moment later Silver's head reappeared from hanging over the bed, a pair of handcuffs dangling from one finger as he grinned.

“And that's just what I'm willing to share with one night stands,” Flint said, watching Silver's eyebrows raise. “There's more under the bed...if you're still curious.” It was a challenge plain and simple, and Silver was tempted, if the way his pupils dilated was any indication at all but after a moment he chuckled, sliding over Flint again and wrapping his hands loosely around the other mans wrists, pushing them up over his head and toward the very _conveniently_ located hook on the wall. Silver glanced at the hook, which ostensibly was holding a decorative bronze anchor, then glanced at Flint, eyebrows raised in a silent question. Flint just shrugged.

“You're secretly filthy, aren't you?” Silver asked with a chuckle as he leaned down and kissed Flint, snapping the handcuffs around his wrists loosely and slipping them over the provided hook, which was at the perfect height.

“Not so secret now,” Flint grinned and Silver rolled his eyes, leaning back over to the drawer and pulling out a bottle of lube.

“Rich art collector with a filthy mind and a box of kinky shit under his bed, where have I seen this movie?” Silver chuckled and Flint rolled his eyes.

“I thought I was getting fucked?” he said pointedly and Silver snorted, shaking his head as he leaned forward to kiss Flint, one hand drifting to his half hard cock and stroking his lightly.

“Throughly,” Silver chuckled, dropping his fingers to rub against Flint's hole before pulling away to coat them with lube and returning, spreading it gently around before pressing a finger inside, sliding all the way to the knuckle as Flint arched, head rolling back as he tugged on the cuffs.

“Fuck,” Flint muttered and Silver grinned, mouth descending to Flint's chest as he moved his finger, adding a second not long after, twisting them gently as he stretched Flint open for him.

“Come on already,” Flint growled and Silver just raised his eyebrows.

“I'm sorry, which of us is in handcuffs?” he asked with a smug look and Flint rolled his eyes, popping the cuffs with ease as he hooked his legs around Silver's waist and dragged them together.

“Hey,” Silver frowned, grabbing the cuffs and checking to see if they were the fake trick kind. They weren't.

“You think you're the only one who knows how to pick a lock?” Flint grinned and Silver glared, leaning down to shut him up with a kiss as he reached for the lube again and spread it over his cock, tilting his hips forward and pressing against Flint until he slipped inside, pleased when Flint arched under him with a desperate moan.

“All right there?” Silver grinned and Flint reached down to his side and pinched him harshly, causing him to jump and squeak, giving Flint the chance to roll them so he sat astride Silver's hips and sank down all the way on him, drawing a hiss from them both.

“If you're going to fuck me, I suggest you get on with it,” Flint said with an arched brow. “Before I get bored in my old age.”

Silver rolled his eyes, planting his feet and snapping his hips up sharply, drawing a gasp from Flint. A moment later he rolled them again, grabbing Flint's hands and pinning them over his head, snapping the cuffs back on as he drew back slowly before slamming his hips in sharply. Flint groaned and Silver took that as his cue to begin fucking him hard and fast, the whole bed shaking with their movements as the headboard crashed repeatedly into the wall. He chuckled, wondering what the neighbors on the other side of the wall must think.

“Fuck,” Flint managed when Silver's hand wrapped around his cock, jerking him in time with his thrusts. “I'm not going to last if you do that.”

“I'm not exactly trying to take this slow,” Silver grinned, twisting his hand. Flint arched into him with a sharp breath and Silver tilted his hips, brushing along Flint's prostate and causing the man below him to shout with each thrust, his whole body tensing as he sped toward the edge.

“Fuck, I-” was all Flint managed before he came hard, eyes rolling back in his head as Silver shuddered above him, the sensation of Flint's muscles clenching down sending him over the edge right along with Flint. He let his head drop to the center of Flint's chest as his orgasm washed over him, not really surprised when Flint's arms came down and wrapped around him, handcuffs once more gone.

“Jesus,” Silver muttered as he drew out slowly, curling against Flint's chest. He glanced at the window and seeing it was still dark outside, he pressed a kiss to Flint's throat and let sleep overtake him. Below him Flint's breath had already evened out as he stroked Silver's back, dropping off to sleep as fresh exhaustion washed over him.

\- - -

“You're fucking insatiable,” Flint muttered, knowing exactly what Silver was after the way he was rubbing his ass against Flint's growing erection. At some point Flint had stumbled into the bathroom and retrieved a washcloth to wipe them both down before he'd curled around Silver and fallen right back to sleep.

“This may very well be true, but answer me this,” Silver said, arching his back and reaching back to twist his fingers in Flints hair. “When was the last time you got it up so many times in one night?”

“Oh fuck you,” Flint muttered, dropping his hand to Silver's cock and squeezing. “Just because I haven't had anyone interesting in my bed lately doesn't mean age has made me impotent.”

“God, you're too fun to tease,” Silver groaned and Flint shook his head, reaching for the lube and slicking some over his cock, sliding it between Silver's cheeks and pressing forward. He slid a hand under Silver's knee and lifted his legs apart, spreading him as he pushed inside, putting steady pressure against the too tight muscles until they suddenly went from trying to keep him out to trying to pull him in and he slid all the way to hilt in one movement as Silver gasped loudly.

“Fuck, fuck that's good,” Silver groaned, fingers tightening. “Move, move now, please,” he said and Flint flicked his hips experimentally, pleased with the sounds it drew from Silver as he began sliding out slowly and pausing until Silver whimpered before he began to thrust continuously, but just as slowly, intent on driving Silver to the point of begging incoherently.

It honestly took far less time than he was expecting before Silver was shaking as he pushed his hips back against every thrust, begging incoherently for _more_ , and _harder_ , and _faster_. They came together, soft grunts echoing in the darkness. Flint buried his face between Silver's shoulder blades and didn't move, aside from pulling his softened cock free with a slight pop and a small whine from Silver.

-:-:-

Flint woke to an empty bed and a pounding coming from the front door. He yawned all the way down the stairs after tugging some clothes on, pulling open the door to reveal the two FBI agents who had been there previously.

“Mr. Flint, we received a notification from your security company that the painting has been compromised,” Hornigold said and Flint sighed, waving them inside. He obviously hadn't checked the gallery yet, but he wouldn't be surprised if something was missing, honestly. Silver had sticky fingers, and Flint hadn't been awake when the other man slipped out. He hadn't really been all that bothered keeping track of Silver after the night they'd had, he knew the thief would lift something before he was out of the house. Flint yawned again as he followed the FBI agents down the hall, stretching his sore muscles lightly, enjoying the slight burn everywhere, entirely unbothered but what they'd find or not find.

“It's still here,” Dufresne muttered, staring at the painting hanging on the wall.

 _The Fighting Temeraire_ was indeed still where it was supposed to be, and the security panel was flashing with red lights, showing clearly that nearly every security measure around the painting had been triggered. Flint suppressed a chuckle, knowing Silver could have slipped the painting without tripping a single alarm, but that he did it on purpose, probably to fuck with the two agents who were after him.

Hornigold glanced around the room, confused, before spotting a small safe in one corner.

“Mr. Flint, would you kindly open the safe? With gloves, if you please, there my be fingerprints,” he told Flint who just nodded, trying to keep his face straight as he grabbed a pair of driving gloves and spun the dial until the combination clicked. He pulled the glove off again and lay his thumb over the print scanner and the safe popped open.

“Is anything missing?” Hornigold asked over Flint's shoulder and Flint nearly laughed, shaking his head instead.

“A painting called _Nightfall on the Thames_ , it's by Grimshaw," he said, biting back a laugh.

"It would only be worth something to a private collector, I loan it out frequently enough,” he said, grabbing a sticky note that rested on the shelf between two gloved fingers.

 _'_ _Last night was great_ _!_ _'_ it read with a winking smily face drawn underneath. Flint did chuckle this time, shaking his head. Closing the door on the safe again he looked at the back of the note. _'_ _Dust Me!_ _'_ it said and he raised an eyebrow. Glancing over his shoulder and crumpled the note, not bothering to protest when Hornigold called in a team of crime scene investigators to dust the whole room. He quietly slipped away and locked the study doors, saying it was always kept locked when asked and assuring them that nothing had been tampered with.

In reality the study was still an absolute mess from the activities the night before and the clutter on the floor brought a smirk to his face as he recalled the events that left it that way. Flint put it to rights eventually, but he was enjoying the memory far too much to be bothered with is right away. He just knew he'd catch hell from his housekeeper when she returned if he left it a mess.

There was no trace of Silver for weeks, not a breath. The number was disconnected and even Gates hadn't seen him, though Flint suspected the man new exactly where Silver was, he just wasn't fessing up about it. Flint was beginning to think he'd never see the thief again, or hear anything else about it for a good long while when one afternoon the FBI came knocking once more.

“Yes?” Flint asked, not bothering to open the door any wider than a crack.

“We found a set of prints,” Dufresne informed him, gritting his teeth as if the news pained him. “They did not, in fact, belong to Mr. Silver. They belong to a Miss Eleanor Guthrie, daughter of Richard Guthrie, the renowned art thief. It seems she's gone into her father's business.”

“Well, that's good to hear. Do let me know if you've found my painting,” Flint said with an entirely fake smile as he shut the door in Dufresne's face. He watched out the peephole until the agent had collected his shocked self and descended the stairs before he burst out laughing.

“What was that?” Billy asked, sticking his head around the corner. Flint had almost forgotten the man was back and he shook his head, still chuckling.

“It seems my painting did indeed put a master thief behind bars, just not the one the FBI was expecting.”

“So not the one you fucked all over the house,” Billy deadpanned. “Was he not the thief?

“Oh he stole it,” Flint grinned. “But it seems there's a bit of trouble going on in the criminal underworld. They're arresting Eleanor Guthrie instead.”

Billy raised an eyebrow. The doorbell rang again and this time Billy beat Flint to it, opening it to find a young dark haired girl standing there. Well, girl probably wasn't the right term, she was clearly a grown woman and Billy's eyes widened.

“I have this for Mr. Flint?” she said with a sweet smile, holding out an envelope. Billy blinked, reaching out to take it, enthralled by her smile and the way her fingers brushed against his before she turned and walked away. When he turned back to the foyer Flint was eyeing him with crossed arms and he coughed hastily, shaking himself.

“What?” he muttered at his employer, passing the envelope over. Flint just rolled his eyes as he tore it open along the top, pulling a set of papers out. It was a list of every single one of Flint's bank accounts, security devices, storage facilities, and houses, with every code and entry key. He stared at the papers for a long minute before he burst out laughing, knowing without a doubt that Silver would be back one day soon.

-:-:-

“What is this?” Eleanor spat, trying to tug her arms out of the grip of two uniformed officers.

“Your prints were found at the scene of a crime,” Dufresne said with a smug smirk.

“What?” Eleanor asked, her eyes wide as her mind whirled, fitting and refitting piece after piece as she tried to understand what was happening. Hornigold stepped forward.

“Miss Guthrie, you are under arrest for the theft of _Nightfall on the Thames,_ as well as several other well know pieces of art. You have the right to remain silent, you have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one,”

“I suspect she can,” Dufresne muttered, not quelled by Hornigold's glare.

“A lawyer will be provided for you,” Hornigold finished, hustling her into the back of a police car.

Across the street Charles caught her eye and smirked, waving. She growled, fighting the hands pushing her in the car and by the time anyone turned to see what she was reacting to, he was gone.

“Job well done,” Jack muttered when Charles slid into the car next to him. “We won't be seeing her for quite some time.”

“Now all I have to do is deal with her father,” Charles muttered, not looking forward to confronting Richard Guthrie over his daughter's stint in prison.

“I wouldn't worry about that too much,” Jack chuckled. “The FBI received some mysterious tapes of a robbery that took place three nights ago downtown, I think they'll easily identify Richard Guthrie on the feed and he'll be going away for several years, just like his charming daughter.”

Charles snorted, shaking his head, pleased that Jack's ruthless streak hadn't quite been destroyed by his paranoia. Things were finally looking up for him and Abigail, and maybe he'd go in with Jack and his crew. After all. Charles was young, he wasn't quite ready to retire just yet.

-:-:-

The contemporary art conference had been long and exhausting, four days of pointless talks that went on forever and Flint was exhausted, mentally and physically. Mentally because of how bored he had been the entire time, he really hated contemporary art, and physically because he hadn't been able to sleep, thinking about Silver. The phone number he'd had before was still disconnected and Flint had no way to reach him, even if he wanted to. Which he did. Rather desperately if he was honest with himself. It had been almost two weeks since the girl had delivered the list of his accounts and assets and he had honestly expected Silver to show up by now.

Yawning as he wandered through the house, Flint flipped the light on, and glanced at the wall out of habit and did a double take when he found that this time, _The Fighting Temeraire_ was gone, its frame hanging empty. In the middle of the wall inside the empty frame a note was pinned, hastily scribbled writing hardly legible even when Flint approached it and tugged it from the wall.

It was set of coordinates, somewhere in the South Pacific if Flint wasn't mistaken. He debated for all of five minutes before he packed a bag and called the private airstrip where he kept his Lear Jet.

-:-:-

“Where's my fucking painting?” Flint asked a day later as he stepped off the plane on a remote island near Fiji, ignoring Silver's open mouth which had likely been about to greet him.

“In your safety deposit box in Zurich,” Silver frowned, crossing his arms. “You can't possibly still be mad that I stole your _art._ ”

“Yes, well,” Flint chuckled, dropping his bag on the tarmac. “Reputation and all that.” Silver rolled his eyes and stepped into his arms, kissing him hungrily. Flint was only too happy to reciprocate, hands drifting to Silver's ass and squeezing.

“Fuck the art,” Silver said when he pulled back. “I've got a beach house with five miles of ocean front, and I want to fuck you in every room, on every deck chair, on the beach, in the water, on the fucking roof if you want.”

“Well,” Flint chuckled. “I could be persuaded to stay for that,” he grinned, snagging one more kiss before they all but ran for the waiting Jeep.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I hope everyone enjoyed this little gem, as well as all the paintings! I sent the pictures to my sister and she said 'Yes this would be Flint's art collection' to which my response was 'It would also be _my_ art collection. I enjoyed myself. XD
> 
> I’m on Tumblr [Beneath The Black Sails](http://www.beneaththeblacksails.tumblr.com)


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